Session 5: An Exercise in Technicality
It was the following morning. The reception office at Arkham was still something of a mess, but most of the tables and chairs had been righted, and the receptionist had her desk ornaments back in place and was working on such paperwork as she'd been able to recover.
She did not notice the door opening and someone approaching the desk, but looked up at the sound of a polite cough. "Can I help–ah!"
"Hello," Doctor Isley said, smiling as politely as she could whilst the woman obviously scrabbled for the silent alarm button under the desk. She had swapped her plant clothing for a modest dress suit and a messenger bag, from which she produced a stack of papers. "I'd like to be admitted to the asylum for psychiatric help. I have the relevant application forms here."
As the woman took the papers, more out of habit than by conscious choice, two large men in security uniforms entered the room from a side door and moved to flank Isley.
"Your assistance won't be needed, guys," Harleen said. The poor receptionist actually flinched in surprise. All eyes turned towards Doctor Quinzel, who was leaning against the door frame. "In fact, based on, let me see," she produced a pair of glasses and a folded sheet of paper from inside her coat. "Yes, based on Arkham regulations section C, subsection 12, article 4, 'Asylum personnel are not to make physical contact with voluntarily, self-admitted patients or their belongings without the express permission of said patient,' and then there are some exceptions which, trust me, don't apply right now." She looked up at the guards, who were now glaring daggers at her. "But if you boys want to lend a hand, you can escort me to the warden's office." Harleen looked up at the security camera in one corner of the ceiling and smiled brightly. "I'm sure he'll be very eager to yell at me right now."
"Miss Quinzel, I took you for incompetent but not for a moron," Warden Sharpe's tone was calm but strained, and there was a fire in his eyes. "A criminal who escaped from court-ordered imprisonment cannot admit themselves to low-security detainment because they still have a court-ordered sentence to complete!"
"Actually, she can," Harleen replied. "I don't know if you remember, some years ago there was this big case involving that Al Ghul woman? They wanted to put her in prison for some big scheme the Batman foiled. Trouble was, they had previously upgraded her from jail time to the death penalty, and the execution didn't stick. Weird how often that happens, honestly.
"Anyway, Ms. Al Ghul argued that she'd already been punished for all her previous crimes, so all they could charge her with was one attempted murder. Politics, y'know? The courts ruled that her life sentence ended when she broke out, making the death penalty a new sentencing and allowing them to sentence her again for breaking out of prison."
"Your point?" the warden growled.
"Doctor Isley's sentence at Arkham is legally void," Harleen said. "Of course, she can be tried for breaking out, and the court can sentence her for a length equal to the remainder of her incomplete sentence, plus any additional crimes committed whilst free. You are welcome to press those charges if you wish, but I should warn you that my patient intends to plead guilty and sane, so she'll go to Blackgate, rather than Arkham."
"Have you considered, Miss Quinzel, that your patient caused a mass breakout yesterday, and is, therefore, a clear and present danger to herself and others? I am the warden, which means I'm the person in charge here, and I can have any patient moved to high security under those conditions."
"Oh, she took part in a breakout, I grant you," Harleen replied. "But caused it? No, I don't think so. Unless you really want to admit that your security is so lax that a lone, de-powered individual can release all those dangerous people from inside a padded cell, without any outside help or saboteur involved? The papers are already speculating as much, I'm sure they'd love confirmation of the fact."
The warden's face was now bright red, and the rage in his eyes was blazing. "Fine!" he said, slamming a fist down on his desk. "We'll roll out the welcome mat for Poison Ivy, for now, but you, Miss Quinzel, will leave. You are fired, effective immediately, and I will see to it you never work in psychiatry again!"
"Oh, you are well within your rights to fire me, of course," Doctor Quinzel replied calmly, standing up. "However, I would draw your attention to the fact that non-violent voluntary patients may elect to be treated by their own therapist, even if that therapist is not an Arkham employee, in which case Arkham must reimburse that therapist at the asylum's usual rates."
Harleen walked to the door, leaving the man seething behind her. "Oh, and as for you blacklisting me," she added over her shoulder, "Your influence only goes so far, and I have copies of every memo I've ever sent you." She adopted a thoughtful expression. "I think I'll go to one of those private institutions in Switzerland," she said. "They know talent when they see it, and I hear they pay really well, too."
Doctor Isley's new cell had a door, but it was a normal wooden door rather than a massive steel vault door, and was kept unlocked during the day. The walls were padded, but there was a real bed, a table and two chairs, and, gloriously, an exterior window! It was barred and locked shut, but it let the sunlight in, and Isley was sitting in front of it, letting the sunlight fall on her face, when Harleen arrived.
She knocked politely on the door frame. "Nice place you've got here," she said wryly.
Ivy turned to face her. "How did it go?"
"Perfectly. Ah, you should have seen his face, he is irate."
"And that's a good thing, is it?" Isley asked.
"Oh yes. People make bad decisions when they're angry, and he is going to be angry for a long time." Harleen lowered her voice and leaned in close. "What he should do, right now, is just claim you lashed out at a guard, declare you violent and dangerous, and throw you in an even deeper cell than you were in before. But don't worry," she added quickly. "There's no way he'll do that now. It would mean letting me get away. You are, in fact, the safest you could possibly be right now–he won't dare let anything bad happen to you until he's taken care of me."
"And when he comes for you, we'll be ready?" Ivy whispered.
Harleen smiled. "When he comes for me, we'll be ready."